


baby, can you keep your composure?

by MichellesBoh (michellesbohh)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Strangers to Lovers, how to lose a guy in 10 days au that no one asked for, okay like 3 people asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28579155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellesbohh/pseuds/MichellesBoh
Summary: “'Are you ready to go for a ride, Michelle?''Areyouready to go for a ride, Peter?'"A "How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days" AU
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	baby, can you keep your composure?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jsscshvlr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr/gifts), [seekrest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/gifts).



> HELLO. I want to wish a v happy borthday to Jess (IT WAS STILL YOU BIRTHDAY WHEN I PUBLISHED!) and Seek (Seeeeeeeek)! I hope you all enjoy your day and enjoy this v crazy rom com fic. 
> 
> Title is a nod to the original magazine from the movie and thanks to my love @mjonesing for listening to me spiral about this for days.

_“...And only then will the people of Sokovia know true and lasting peace.”_

Michelle can’t help the satisfied grin that takes over her face as she reads out the last line of her latest piece, How To: Bring Peace to Sokovia.

“It’s _brilliant_ , MJ. Really inspiring,” Cindy grins right along with her-- a peace offering-- before she does her best friendly duties of reality checking her runaway imagination. “But it’ll never appear in Zen magazine.”

“ _God_ , I busted my ass in grad school, and for what?” Michelle huffs, spinning back and forth in her desk chair. “So I could be ‘Michelle Jones: How-To Girl’? I write articles like ‘How to use the best pick-up lines’ or ‘do blondes…” she leans into Cindy in a whisper, put upon valley girl accent in full force, “Do they like...really have more fun?”

Cindy snickers, sobering quickly to add, “inquiring minds want to know.”

“Cindy,” she sighs, frustration settling in, “I want to write about things that I care about. That people should be seeing! Like...like politics and activism and-”

“And you’ll get there. Just keep working and it’ll pay off, okay?” She shoves her lightly until the smile creeps back onto her face. “It’s a shame though... I did love you as a blonde…”

Michelle blinks at her, “My hair has never been the same, Cin. Bleach should be banned.”

“I don’t know...‘blonde MJ’ was different. Somehow...less uptight than her brunette counterpart.”

“You’re just saying that because I brought you as a plus one to that wedding where you met Jordan Fisher for 30 seconds.”

“And for that reason, blonde MJ will always hold a dear place in my heart,” Cindy slides back around the corner to her own desk with a mischievous grin. “ I do have something that might cheer you up. You know that sports guy you’ve been _shamelessly_ flirting with over the phone for...I don’t know, the past _month?_ ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m listening…” Michelle says as she follows her around the divider.

“Well, this morning he dropped this off…” Cindy baits, holding up a plain white envelope that Michelle definitely does not snatch out of her hands.

“Oh? This is is pretty fucking sweet, not gonna lie,” she says as she holds up the two tickets inside. “NBA Finals game. I’m sure someone who wasn’t me would be thrilled to have these and therefore I feel an adjacent joy and slight sense of superiority, which...I need. Come with?”

Cindy makes her sweat it out for all of 4 seconds before she’s agreeing, “Okay. I’ll go...but I’m _not_ putting out.”

MJ smirks at her, turning her back and walking away with just a touch of hip sway, “Couple of stale pretzels and a few beers and you’ll be whistlin’ a different tune…”

“You know what I like,” Cindy fires back, keeping up their easy banter. Cindy had been the first person at _Zen_ to make friends with her and she genuinely doesn’t know what she’d do without her quick wit and no bullshit variation of love.

Michelle’s about to tease her more when-

“Good morning, ladies!” Tricia greets too brightly, “don’t forget! Staff meeting in 30 minutes.” She looks between them for a moment but doesn’t wait for a reply before she’s bouncing away again. The two friends share a look across their little cubicle corner that screams _is she for real_ before something occurs to MJ.

“Uh, where’s Betty?”

Cindy stills, thinking before she perks, “I think that guy she was seeing ended things with her. I got a few calls from her at 2 this morning, but she didn’t pick up when I called her back. She’s probably wallowing.” Cindy gives her a pointed look, “Again.”

MJ is already reaching down to slip her heels back on with a grunt and grabbing for her bag and phone, “Ugh, it’s my turn. I’ll get her.”

She’s pulling out her shades when she turns back to Cindy, brandishing them at her as threateningly as one can brandish a pair of sunglasses, “I expect to be heavily caffeinated ( _or sedated preferably, she thinks to herself)_ when I get back. None of that weak shit from the cafeteria this time, Cindy.”

“One time...I did that one time…”

“And clearly I haven’t recovered. Find the coffee cart. They have Twitter.”

With that Michelle is dashing out of the office, bag of beauty samples in hand, and with a mission to get Betty dressed and back before their morning meeting.

Cindy, having now been volun-tasked with getting coffee for the three of them, stands and watches as she goes and all she can do is shake her head at the whole situation.

“Drama, drama, drama…”

* * *

With 5 minutes to spare, (a miracle by any measurement), Cindy meets them just as they’re stepping out of the cab and onto the bustling sidewalk.

Michelle’s height and her fierce gaze keep any of the commuters who have to migrate around their little sidewalk powwow from chiming in with that patented New York hospitality as Betty smooths out the creases in her sweater.

“I just don’t understand,” her tone is clipped but the look Michelle shoots Cindy over her head lets her know that this composure was newly found on the ride over. “It just always starts out _so well_ with a guy, and then boom. He’s not answering my calls or accepting my google calendar invites and I don’t know what happened.”

The two of them are making their way into the building behind Betty and Michelle whispers, _“Let’s just roll with this for now…”_

After they successfully navigate the spinning door and reach the elevator, which is mercifully empty, Betty continues, “I mean...the first time we were intimate I felt so close to him. I cried a little.”

Cindy’s eyes are like saucers and she leans forward around to look at Betty’s face, “You mean like...a single glistening tear down your cheek? Right? Please tell me you mean a single tear.”

Betty tugs at her sweater again, a nervous tick that Michelle and Cindy know well. “I was _really_ emotional. I even told him I loved him.”

“After how many days?” is Michelle’s casual segue. She’s seemingly more interested in her coffee cup and whatever email she’s reading, but Cindy knows this is her way of keeping her true opinion to herself.

“5?” Cindy levels her with a disbelieving stare and Betty sheepishly amends, “2?” At the look on her two friends’ faces she elaborates defensively, “It was how I felt! I wanted to express myself.”

“Okay...well what did he say?”

“Oh. He didn’t need to say anything. I know he was feeling the same,” Betty sighs, before frowning. “Except then he started getting really busy. And I didn’t know where he was and I just kept calling and calling…”

Michelle tilts her head sympathetically, “You kept calling?” and Betty’s quick to defend herself, “I used my google voice number! He didn’t know it was me!”

Cindy does laugh then, “Yes men frequently call their friends from a strange number and hang up 20 times. Honestly, he probably blocked you after the first couple of times.”

Betty looks scandalized and MJ turns to Cindy incredulously, blinking rapidly in a way that says you are not helping! Cindy has the decency to look mildly chastised.

Michelle puts her phone away and gives Betty her undivided attention to deliver her next message, “Hey, if anyone did the things you did, they’d get dumped too. It’s not that you’re undateable, you just come on a little...strong.”

Betty scoffs, “Yeah okay. No one would run from you! You with your long legs and effortless supermodel aura, MJ, please. You could literally throw up on him and he would say _‘ooh baby do it again._ ’”

Michelle’s head jerks back on instinct, “Okay first of all, gross. And second of all -shut up, Cindy- if I did the things you did, they would go running. Really.”

The ding of the elevator as they reach their floor saves them from having to continue this conversation as they get swept up in the migration towards the office conference room.

_Right on time._

Michelle thinks she deserves a raise at this point.

* * *

  
“But here at _Zen,_ you are significant. You are valuable. Here, you are loved."

It’s taken years of practice for Michelle to keep from rolling her eyes at her boss when he starts every meeting with their tired company mission statement. She understands the intent, but she’s never been one for surface sentimentality.

It might resonate more if she thought he actually meant it. Which...she is certain he does not.

Endwi (yes his name is Endwi), has been her editor for as long as she’s been working at Zen. He’s a bit eccentric and _definitely_ a little malicious, but he pays her well and doesn’t hover over her work and for that, she is grateful.

“Good morning, team!” Michelle can barely focus on the words coming out of his mouth as she’s very distracted by the shocking grey hair and icy blue eye shadow he’s sporting today.

They’re a women’s magazine so fashion is obviously a big piece of what they do. This, of course, leads to a somewhat flexible code of dress, something her boss takes full advantage of.

(He’d even carried a staff around work for a month and would threaten to hit people with it when he thought no one was listening.)

“What have you brought me today, hmm? Tell me!”

Tricia has raised her hand before he’s even had the chance to finish the sentence and she immediately launches into a train of pitches about “‘botox for beginners,’’ "what your gyno won’t tell you," and "deadly pedicures.” Stories that despite their somewhat gruesome premises are all, as she described, “surprisingly upbeat!”

Michelle does roll her eyes then and she’s not sure if that’s the reason she’s called next, but she has a hunch.

“Michelle? What’s next in ‘how-to?’”

“Well,” she swallows, clasping her hands to keep them from shaking. “I’ve been working on something that’s kind of different.”

She sees the moment her editor’s face drops and shakes off her nerves to continue, mentally cursing at the tremble in her voice, “It’s uh--it’s a political piece-”

“No. Michelle, you work at _Zen_. We do cosmetics, diets, fitness, fashion, and the occasional salacious gossip. That’s the brand.”

“But if I-”

“Look, Michelle,” he sighs, almost bored, “The column is new for you. When you turn it into a must-read, you can write about whatever you want.” She perks up at that, happy to have been given the hope, but the moment of joy is short-lived.

Endwi leans back in his chair, picking at his nails idly, “Until then...you can write about whatever _I_ want? Got it?” He doesn’t wait for an answer.

“Betty! What have you prepared for us today?”

Michelle can see the way she jumps at the sound of her name, as she’s certain Betty hadn’t been expecting to pitch this morning. Horoscope & Fitness usually doesn’t.

Deer in headlights is an understatement for the look in Betty’s eyes as she wars between trying to pitch on the spot (never a good idea) or just being honest. Michelle sees her decision in the sag of her shoulders and the downward turn of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Endwi. I wasn’t feeling very well I-”

Cindy, ever the assistant, chimes in, “She got dumped.” When MJ gives her that same blinking look, all she gets in return is a casual shrug. There’s a reason she and Cindy get along so well.

“Ohhhhh no, Betty,” Endwi crows with what is surely meant to be sympathy. “What a hellish ordeal for you. But I must say…you are looking _fabulous,_ ” he leads, glancing around at everyone, “Are we loving the way she looks, all?”

The chorus of praise and agreement does little to calm Betty’s nerves as Endwi refocuses on her,  
“Yeah, I haven’t really been eating much. It’s been pretty ba-”

“Good for you!” he claps, cutting her off, “write about it.”

“I can’t use my personal life for a story.” Cindy’s grimace perfectly relays the feeling churning in MJ’s stomach at the suggestion.

She feels a small sense of relief when he nods solemnly to Betty, “I understand completely.”

It’s again, short-lived when immediately he turns to address the group and the room descends into madness.

“Who will use Betty’s personal life for a story?”

Tricias nearly bouncing in place at the opportunity, “Oh I will!”

Endwi points at her instantly to pitch, “go.”

Betty’s sitting up in her seat now, “No, Endwi, no! With all due respect, Tricia has no right mucking around in my personal life and I- I can’t let her.”

"I’m upset! I’m very upset. You know what I like about being upset? Blame. Right now, that’s the mindset that I’m in. And you know who I’m blaming? You, Be-”

Everyone stills when Michelle’s voice cuts through the noise, raised and authoritative, “I’ll do it.”

The look of betrayal on Betty’s face and her confused “what?” almost makes her falter, but the idea has taken root in her mind already, and with all eyes on her, she has to say something.

“I will-- I’ll _sort of_ do it. It’s-- you will be my muse.”

“For?” Her editor’s interest is piqued and that’s what she wanted. Now if she could only solidify what the hell it is she’s trying to pitch.

Yeah, that’d be helpful.

It takes a moment before she starts suddenly, “Look at Betty. She is a great girl, right? Yes. An...amazing woman, yeah? But...” She grapples for the right words briefly as she considers the least critical way to phrase the next bit.

“She has a problem hanging on to relationships...and doesn’t really know what she’s doing wrong. Which is like a lot of our readers.”

Everyone in the room is rapt and Endwi is nodding slowly, so she guesses she’s on the right track.

“So,” she claps, “I was thinking, I could start by dating a guy and then drive him away, but only using classic mistakes most women make all the time. Women like Betty.” She tilts her head apologetically, breathing out when Betty smiles a little.

“I’ll keep a diary of it and it’ll be sort of...a dating how-to in...reverse!” Michelle knows she’s rambling and she knows she’s talking with her hands too much, but she keeps it together until she gauges the reaction from her boss.

A slow grin makes its way onto Endwi’s face and he nods, “A what _not_ to do.”

“Exactly,” she says and it’s more of an exhale of relief than anything else.

“‘How-To: Lose a Guy In Ten Days.’ Yes…” He muses, pointing at her in that same succinct way, “Go.” And then his attention is onto the next pitch, but Michelle, ever the masochist has to interrupt.

“Uh wait, Endwi? I’m sorry, but why 10 days?” He looks annoyed both that she’s interrupted him and also that she doesn’t see why that’s the obvious time-frame.

“Because 5 days is too short and we go to press in 11. Yes?” He explains already turning back to Bart so he can continue his pitch on fall shoes.

Betty and Cindy are beaming at her from their perch on the couch to her right and Betty’s mouthed “ _thank you,_ ” reassures her that she’s done the right thing.

Except for the part where she hasn’t had a date in...well she’s out of _practice_ okay?

Michelle knows she’s attractive. She’d given up trying to deny that somewhere around freshman year of college when she’d left her very nerdy science high school and been very violently thrust into the pits of hormonal unsupervised baby adults.

The number of heads she turned on the rare occasion she went to parties and the fact that she never had an empty bed unless she wanted it really drove the point home.

But that was then, and now that she’s older, busier, and with more responsibility, dating has taken the furthest back burner. She never even turns it on.

The rest of the meeting passes in a blur and she blinks in surprise when she sees everyone gathering their things around her. She manages to catch up with Cindy who is deep in what appears to be a painful conversation with their editor.

“What’s the name of that chic Buddhist guy who’s always cavorting around with Lady Gaga?” He asks thoughtfully and Cindy suppresses a moan to reply, “The Dalai Lama?”

Endwi hops off the last step, “Yes, he’s _fabulous_ , let’s get him.” As Cindy takes on the very daunting task of explaining why it might be difficult to get The Dalai Lama for the fall issue, Michelle’s eyes land on a man and woman she’s never seen before.

The man is only barely taller than the woman in her heels and he’s got too much product in his hair and smug demeanor about him that makes her think he’d have been one of those, “ _well, actually_ ” guys that she hated in college.

Everything about him screams “ _I have money and I want you to know it.”_ The woman however is striking. She’s got platinum blonde hair and she carries herself with the kind of confidence that Michelle can only fake on her best days. Her outfit is simple, but all black which adds a level of chicness and her makeup is soft and barely there.

At first glance she seems completely unassuming, but when she catches Michelle staring and winks, Michelle figures that coming off that way is most certainly a calculated intention.

She’s also confident that it’s a completely inaccurate representation.

They’re standing close enough to each other for her to assume they’d come here together but, other than that they seem to have a bit of a chilly regard for one another.

And see, Michelle has been taught not to judge people based on appearances but she thinks she knows trouble when she sees it.

“Ah! Here’s my 10 ‘o clock. Welcome! This is Flash Thompson and Felicia Hardy from Stark Advertising. We’re gonna try to grab some great tie-ins for the fall.”

They’re being herded over before they even have a chance to escape and Endwi has launched into more unnecessary introductions, “Cindy Moon: Fashion and Trends, Betty Brant: Horoscope and Fitness, and Michelle Jones, our resident ‘how-to’ girl.”

Felicia smiles and cat-like ( _or predatory)_ is the only description that comes to mind as Flash offers, “Oh, yes I’ve seen your column, Michelle. What are you working on now?”

Michelle opens her mouth to speak, but Endwi, already bored of the interaction he orchestrated, is leading his guests away, “‘How To: Lose a Guy in 10 Days.’ She’s literally gonna start dating poor schmuck and drive him away in a week and a half.”

“Sounds needlessly vicious,” Felicia practically purrs, clearly intrigued by the idea of it.

“It’s going to be fabulous, now!” Endwi turns back and Michelle straightens up with wide eyes, “All that’s left is for you to go out and find the lucky guy. Go, go, go!”

* * *

It’s a little past 6 when the three of them make their way out of the taxi and to the bar that Cindy has picked out. Betty’s been skeptical at best and downright resolute at worst about the likely success of this experiment.

“You are never gonna pull this off, MJ.” And yeah, maybe she’s been having doubts since the moment she agreed to it, but this is not helping!

Projecting way more confidence than she feels, Michelle assures her, “I’m gonna hook a guy tonight. Tomorrow, I pull the switch, and before the 10 days are up, I’m gonna have this man running for his life.”

“You’re not gonna burn his apartment down or--bite him or anything? Right?” Cindy asks, and MJ shoves her, laughing.

“No, I’m gonna limit myself to doing all the things that people supposedly do wrong in relationships. Basically, everything we know people hate like I’ll be clingy, touchy-feely--”

Cindy is too excited when she interjects, “Oh, call him in the middle of the night and tell him everything you ate that day.”

She and Cindy cease their laughter abruptly when Betty asks, “What’s wrong with that?”

Betty lets them blank stare at her for 3 Mississippi's before she puts them out of their misery, “Kidding! I’m kidding…”

They don’t believe her.

“‘Mullins’ Cindy? What are we doing here?” Michelle already has her card out to order her drinks, so Cindy knows she’s not actually that upset about her choice, but she humors her anyway.

“This is the after-work happy hour hot spot, MJ. If you’re gonna find your guy, you’re gonna find him here.”

“Oh, what about him?” she says between sips, “The guy across the way next to the guy in the green shirt who just legitimately isn’t even trying.”

Cindy squints for half a second before she nods, “He’s cute.”

“How do I look,” she asks one more time, rolling her eyes good-naturedly when Betty and Cindy jinx each other with “great!”

Betty’s burrowing a smirk into the straw of some fancy frozen something and so MJ downs the rest of her vodka soda (liquid courage very much needed) and spins away from them.

“Wish me luck?”

* * *

“What are you doing here?” Flash’s look of disgust is almost intimidating until Peter remembers that it’s _Flash_.

“Parker? Kid? What are you doing here?”

“At ‘Mullins’? Tony, I’m here for the meeting.” Peter stands then, extending his hand to his boss and re-buttoning his suit jacket. Felicia’s eyes are boring into the side of his face, but he keeps his attention on Tony.

“But you weren’t invited,” Flash is quick to point out, and Peter turns on him still smiling.

“Yeah, but I should’ve been. It was my tip that The Romanoff account was shopping for a new firm.”

Peter gestures for Felicia to take her seat, even going so far as to pull out her chair as Tony continues, “Yes, it was, but I have to think in terms of who’s best suited within the company. I know as both a representative and an exclusive photographer for the agency, you hold a certain, shall we say _allure_ , but I don’t think you’ve got the right mojo for this one.”

“I should get a chance at shooting that campaign.”

“Peter, you shoot and sell alcohol and sports gear better than anyone else in my shop, but these two know luxury better than anyone else in the business,” He explains, settling down next to Felicia, who not so subtly moves in closer and _when did she take off her blazer?_ “Romanoff would be our biggest account. We have to put our best foot forward.”

Peter thinks idly that it’s not exactly Felicia’s _feet_ that the company is putting forward...

“Just, come on, Tony. Give me a shot.” His eyes are earnest, and he can see where Tony’s beginning to waver on his position. “This is a huge account. Let me bring it home for ya.”

Unfortunately, so can Felicia so she does what she does best. She entrances.

“Peter needs to understand…” her body is angled toward Tony and he raises his eyebrows once then twice as he turns to listen to whatever spell she’s trying to cast. “Working with a major lingerie brand...photographing models...it takes a certain skill.”

Her fingers trail along the edges of the lace bra that is now visible with the way she’s leaning forward, “For example, this is one of our client’s best sellers and I’ve been wearing it all day. I know how it made me feel to wear it and that’s something crucial to understand if we’re going to convince other women to buy it for themselves.”

“I think you’re wrong.” Peter sits back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and silently cheers to himself when Felicia loses her focus when he flexes his arms. “I think in order to effectively _photograph_ lingerie in a way that comes through the pages of the ads we’re trying to sell, a working knowledge of photography and ability to bring exactly the vision I have to life, is invaluable. Plus my own special skill...”

She recovers quickly, as he expected, but he’s still smug, dangling the bait in front of her like yarn in front of a cat, just hoping she takes it, which of _course_ she does.

“Oh, and what skill is that?”

Peter makes a show of taking off his jacket and rolling his sleeves, keeping eye contact with Felicia the whole time. “It’s about making the model fall in love with you a little.” He turns to Flash then, holding the same intense gaze as he wets his lips.

“And if you can do it,” Peter says like he’s letting them in on a secret, “you can do it with anyone,” he whispers and no one at the table speaks. It isn’t until Peter winks at him that Flash seems to break out of his daze, coughing and turning to face Felicia with wide eyes.

Tony looks both impressed and mildly uncomfortable, especially when Flash keeps coughing and Felicia tries to give Tony a napkin to pass along and he and Peter both speak.

“Oh he doesn’t like--”

“I don’t like--”

They exchange a glance and Peter grins wide as they both finish, “to be handed things.”

Eventually Flash calms down and Felicia is back to business immediately, fired up at Peter’s unexpected challenge. “So you’re saying that you can make anyone fall in love with you?”

Tony sips at his drink, something dark and on the rocks, “I don’t know. That’s a big game you’re talking there, Parker.”

Felicia’s smile has turned vicious as she pushes it one step further, “Okay, so I can pick anyone here and you can have them fall in love with you by the Romanoff pitch? Say a week from Sunday?”

Peter laughs a little but it’s comfortable, as if he knows he’s being a little cocky, but he’s not apologetic. “Any person who is reasonably interested in me as a cis, white, male, yes.”

Flash looks between Peter and Felicia, confusion etched into every corner of his face, but Felicia just gives him a look and he keeps silent. “Alright, then. Let’s pick someone right now.”

Tony perks up, gesturing to the waiter to bring him another drink, “Okay, now I’m back cause I’ll be honest you guys were doing a whole lotta yada yada and I did stop listening for a bit. But this. This I’m interested in.”

Felicia and Flash take their time scanning the bar for potential pawns for Felicia’s scheme, more than once pointing out patrons who were not attractive enough to make it easy on Peter and he implores them with a cautious, “Be nice about it, will ya?”

Suddenly, just as Peter is ready to call it off Felicia points, “Her.”

Peter whips his head around and she keeps steady and he begs, “Who? Her who?”

“Across the bar, Curly hair, legs for days,” Felicia tells him and that’s when he sees her.

She’s standing with her two friends and he can’t hear what they’re saying, but her smile is wide and infectious. Her head is thrown back, exposing the long column of her neck (rivaled only by the length of her legs) and Peter finds him instantly wondering what it would be like to bury his nose there and breathe her in.

What it would be like to plant his lips there, to taste her skin, and he’s already made up his mind before he says quietly to himself, “done.”

“What’d you say, Parker?” Flash goads, most likely assuming Peter will back down.

“I said, ‘done.’”

Tony raises his glass to toast Peter, “Done.”

He turns to Felicia then, “Okay. You’re on, but here are the stakes. If I pull this off, this account is mine. No games.”

If Peter weren’t so preoccupied, he’d have noticed that Felicia was too calm, too willing to agree, “Done. Tony?”

He takes a moment to study Peter’s face, apparently seeing something there that convinces him, “Alright. You’re on, kid. You come to that party with a girl that’s really in love with you, Parker, and you can make the pitch to the Romanoff reps.”

* * *

“And I was just wondering if you find that exciting…” she’s running her fingers around the lip of her glass, pleased that he seems mesmerized by the motion. Imagine her surprise when his next words are, “Yes! My husband and I actually love coming here and he’d been here before--”

Married. Of course. Gay? Unexpected, but she can see it. Maybe..bi.

She looks down at his hand now and can’t figure out how she missed that shining band of gold. Brad? Was that his name? He’d had perfect hair and perfect teeth and had actually held up a decent conversation with her without staring into the cleavage she’s got on display in her dress.

Makes sense that he’s married, cause this dress is _killer,_ and almost as if summoned she hears another voice from just behind her company and looks to see a man about her age in a pink dress shirt with a subtly possessive hand on Brad’s shoulder.

“Hi, I’m-- yeah.”

Brad smiles, “This is Michelle!” And the man doesn’t openly glare but the pointed look he does down to the seat she’s in and up to her eyes, has her standing and making her exit with the quickness.

“Hi, yes. I hope you guys enjoy New York!”

She’s wiggling her ring finger to Cindy who’s been watching like a hawk from across the bar to let her know she’s struck out.

Again.

MJ is sure this was somehow easier in college and after 2 strikeouts, she’s sufficiently mortified enough to consider giving the whole thing up and begging for mercy from Endwi.

In fact, she’s so caught up in her personal pity party that she runs right into a pair of insane arms and golden brown eyes.

“Hi!” he says, all smiles and subtly stepping into her space. It’s a very forward move for someone who has not even introduced themselves, but it’s exactly the pace she needs if she’s gonna have any chance of being successful.

“Hi,” she tells him breathlessly, holding her second vodka soda between them and finding herself getting lost in those eyes.

He places a hand, hovering at her side to direct her out of the walking path and closer to the bar top. She ends up with her back leaned against a pillar and for a beat, they just look at each other, unknowingly sizing each other up until he smiles at her again and she can’t help but match it.

Michelle shuffles her drink to her left and offers her right and her name to him, “Michelle Jones.” Her smile doesn’t falter as he shakes her hand, fingers caressing the inside of her wrist in a move that she _knows_ is practiced.

“Peter Parker.”

“Cute.”

“Thanks.”

“Mmm, I meant your name,” she flirts, very much aware that neither of them has let go yet.

“Well thank you two times.” And listen, the faint blush that she sees creep up his cheeks at his assumption and the way he looks up at her through his lashes? Unfair, but she can work with it.

“Unattached?” she leads, tilting her head back against the pillar and maybe arching her back just enough for his gaze to dip down just like she wanted.

_Great, so he’s attracted._

Currently.” Peter steps in a bit closer and he can feel the _whoosh_ of her dress against his knees whenever anyone passes by them. She leans into it and his face settles into something with a few more layers and a little more heat.

“Likewise,” she whispers, and the vain part of her preens a little when Peter’s head jerks back at that.

“Surprising.” His face is critical now so she decides to have a little fun with him.

“Psycho?” she asks, setting her drink (now empty) on the bar.

“Rarely.”

“Hmm…”

“Interested?” Peter rests his hand beside hers on the shiny wood and her fingers are already itching to hold his hand again. Something in the glint of his eye makes her think he knows it too.

“Maybe.” Her smile is out of control as she flits her eyes away from his in an effort to dampen it. She can only imagine how much shit she’s gonna get if Cindy is watching this.

“Hungry?” His eyes are open and asking so many things. _Do you wanna get out of here? Do you wanna get to know me? Do you want--_

And for whatever reason, she finds that she genuinely does. There’s something about Peter’s presence that draws her in, makes her wanna curl up and make a home in the comfort of his arms. Makes her wanna feel the warmth of his body and Michelle can say she was not expecting to feel so much in the first 5 minutes.

“Starving,” she admits, slow smiles spreading back onto both of their faces.

“Leaving.”

“Now?” When Peter starts to nod slowly she finds herself mirroring it unconsciously. They both giggle when they notice.

“Mmm hmm…”

Michelle studies him one more time, the sharp angle of his jaw, the warmth of his gaze, the way he just exudes this infectious happiness and decides that she could do worse.

_And if Peter’s interested…_

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“One sec,” she asks, and then she’s pushing off the pillar as she goes to find Betty and Cindy.

“I’ll uh- meet you at the door,” Peter promises, watching her go with blatant interest until she blends into the crowd and he loses her.

It takes her a little more than a second, but she finds Betty and Cindy and rushes up to them. “Guys. Guys...I think I got one.”

Betty frowns, “But he was married,” and MJ quickly clarifies, “No, not that one--”

Cindy’s instantly scanning, “Oh where? Which one??”

Michelle does manage to keep her smile in check when she gestures behind her, “By the door, but don’t look!-- no _guys_ , come on!” she groans as both their heads pop up and Peter gives them a little wave when he spots them.

Cindy is vibrating when she does a full once over and gets a good look at Peter’s arms, “Oh. He’s _cute.”_

Yeah. She knows and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little nervous about the whole thing, but ever the professional, she starts to fish out her keys from her purse. “Alright, I’m gonna see if this is the keeper.”

Betty sneaks another look at Peter who, of course, is still watching, and she blushes a little, “And if this is the one…?”

MJ startles at that and Cindy, ever the assistant, helpfully prompts her, “Tomorrow...you flip the switch.”

“I flip the switch.” She finally gets her keys in hand and presses them into Betty’s palm, “I’m doing this for you.”

And with that, she’s off with Betty’s calls to “be safe!” echoing behind her.

Across the room, Flash and Felicia watch on as Peter places a hand at Michelle’s back to lead her outside. “Okay do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” Flash hisses and Felicia, cool as ever chuckles darkly basking in the satisfaction of plan well executed.

“You don’t recognize her?” And it takes a minute, but then it hits him and he raises his glass to Felicia’s and they toast their (Felicia’s) quick thinking.

When they get outside, Peter heads towards a nice 4 door sedan and Michelle is reaching for the handle at the passenger’s side when Peter stops her.

“No no, this one,” he points, gesturing to the _motorcycle_ parked in between two cars. Peter likes riding it because he says it reminds him of flying or skydiving. Feeling the wind in his hair makes him feel free.

Michelle happens to think they’re an easy way to become a concrete pancake, but she’s on a mission and so she takes a deep breath and walks over to where he’s already fixing his helmet in place.

Peter turns to her, holding out a bright white helmet with a smirk, “You get to wear the goofy-looking helmet.” Getting herself in the right mindset, she bites her lip, taking it from him.

“It’s not gonna look ‘goofy’ on me,” she teases, easing the helmet over her hair and cursing the way she’s definitely gonna have “helmet hair” whenever they arrive where they’re going.

“It looks goofy on just about everybody,” Peter tells her and Michelle closes her eyes as she leans into his space, too close for strangers, and tilts up her chin, grateful when Peter takes the cue and fastens the buckle on the helmet for her.

“Well look at you,” he murmurs as he fusses with the buckles, “that’s pretty damn cute.”

She pauses a moment until she’s sure Peter’s still looking at her (she can feel it) and opens her eyes, putting as much smolder as she can manage into the look with this admittedly stupid looking helmet on her head.

“There you go. All set.” Peter’s breathless as he lets go of the straps and starts the bike and Michelle is grateful for the distraction so he misses the way her face falls as soon as he turns around.

She really _really_ does not do motorcycles. And she tells him as much, "I don't understand how you ride this? What if you have to go into the country? I keep having visions of you hitting deer." 

Peter turns around to look at her and he's got this overly sappy grin on his face and when he sees her incredulous expression he bites his tongue until she can't take it, "What is it?" 

"I've just never had anyone call me 'dear' before dinner before. So forward..." It's probably the cheesiest line she's heard in years but somehow her cheeks heat and she has to hide her smile in the back of Peter's shoulder. 

He revs the bike a couple times after she finally settles in behind him.

“Are you ready to go for a ride, Michelle?” Peter smirks when he hears her inhale sharply as she wraps her hands around his waist and Michelle curses silently at the spanse of hard muscle under her fingertips.

Never one to be outdone, she spreads her fingers, lets her hands slide around to Peter’s back as she sits up briefly to stretch before they take off. If Peter shudders, Michelle is kind enough not to comment on it.

“Are _you_ ready to go for a ride, Peter?”

She ignores the way her stomach flutters when he laughs out loud at her question and focuses on gripping him tightly as he starts to pull away from the curb.

Michelle does her best to test the waters without distracting Peter so much that they crash, cause that would not be ideal. She presses closer than she needs to, sighs more often than she needs to, and Peter to her dismay seems down to play whatever game she’s playing.

He reaches down, gripping the outside of her thigh at red lights under the guise of "making sure she’s comfortable" and "doesn’t fall," but the way his touch lingers on her skin plants the seed that she might actually enjoy dating Peter, which is something she hadn’t considered.

Unbeknownst to her, Peter is having the same struggle even as he meets her advances with his own.

The only thing certain is that neither of them knows what they’re getting themselves into.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh deer. Here we go! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and come find me on tumblr @michellesbohh. xo


End file.
